


Green Eyed Valentines

by LPM



Series: Inappropriate Holiday Romps [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Anal, Anal Fingering, Anal Play, Anal Plug, Anal Sex, Dirty Talk, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, Fingerfucking, Jealous Stiles, Jealousy, M/M, Office, Office Sex, One Shot, PWP, Possessive Behavior, Possessive Stiles, Public Sex, Sex Toys, Sexual Content, Valentine's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-31
Updated: 2013-05-31
Packaged: 2017-12-13 13:21:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/824758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LPM/pseuds/LPM
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"...“You like having everyone flash their collarbones at you? Make you feel good?” he continues, toeing off his shoes and stepping right up to Derek and gripping his chin, forcing his face up,</p><p>“Even though you’re already mine?” he pants harshly..."</p><p>or</p><p>Valentines Day at the office has all the singletons acting coy with Derek, and Stiles doesn't care...until he does.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Green Eyed Valentines

**Author's Note:**

> Inappropriate time of the year? Yes! But who cares!? I actually had this typed up on Valentines but was struck with an unfortunate case of the Graduate Institution Business and couldn't for the life of me tie up the end in time. So now, months later, here it is! PWP as anything! I'm working on the next installments of my 5 stages and Mr. Sourwolf series but I thought I could chuck up some of my finished one-shots etc. 
> 
> Anywho, that's all for now. Please do check me out on tumblr! I'm at thelpm.tumblr.com, come hang out with me and pages upon pages of porn gifs interspersed with so much Teen Wolf!

Stiles doesn’t like the fire-engine red pencil skirt Melinda “Apple-Bottom” Jones is wearing today. She’s thin as a rail, the nickname is ironic, and the skirt does no favors for her completely flat ass. Even when she bends coyly over the desk so her white button down gapes at the neck and the fabric of the skirt pulls tighter around her bottom, nothing looks better. All anyone can see is that her ass is really completely flat and her breasts are similarly nonexistent.

 

She’s talking to the boss, Derek Hale, about something or other. Stiles can’t hear from his side of the glass that makes the boss’s office visible, but he knows its something arbitrary and contrived. All the singletons have been doing that, all day. Wandering into Mr. Hale’s office in their Valentine’s best, simpering and waving their bits at him. Stiles rates them on how they look in their red-and-white or pink-and-white ensembles. Nobody ranks very high.

 

 _Go on_ he thinks, as Melinda sways her narrow hips out of Derek’s office. _Go on and flirt and wink and simper, I don’t care._

 

And he doesn’t care, because he knows what these people don’t, he knows what they can’t.

 

He knows that Derek Hale is a picture of properness all wrapped in well fitting suits and regulation ties. The craziest he gets is a paisley tie once in a blue moon or perhaps that one pair of glasses that his sister bought him that err a bit too much on the hipsterish side to be strictly businesslike.

 

He also knows that, beneath Derek’s primly buttoned shirt, his nipples are dusky pink and crazy sensitive beneath a calloused touch. He knows what the rosy pucker of Derek’s entrance looks like as it clenches around the plastic of the plug that sits inside him at the very moment. Stiles smiles slightly thinking of it. _Let them flirt_ , he thinks, _I know what’s mine._

 

* * *

 

 

Later, when everyone goes home for hot dates and what have you, Stiles steps into Derek’s office, closes the blinds and locks the door. Derek is waiting for him, sitting still in his chair, completely blank except Stiles can see he’s breathing slightly too hard to be calm.

 

“You like it when they crawl all over you hm?” Stiles says casually, shrugging out of his jacket and throwing it in the vague direction of the coat stand.

 

“You like having everyone flash their collarbones at you? Make you feel good?” he continues, toeing off his shoes and stepping right up to Derek and gripping his chin, forcing his face up,

 

“Even though you’re already mine?” he pants harshly, and he hadn’t realized that he was a bit less than ok with it until that very moment when he’d touched Derek’s skin and could swear he felt where other people had been.

 

“No.” Derek says simply, and that only sets Stiles off, makes his blood run hot in his veins.

 

“Sure Derek?” he hisses, and tears the preppy white shirt, presses his thumbs roughly against those little nipples and feels sharp satisfaction when Derek wines,

 

“You didn’t want any of them to do _this_ to you?” He rubs his fingers against the hardened nubs, delights in Derek’s answering moan,

 

“No,” he chokes,

 

“Liar,” Stiles bites, and draws off Derek’s slacks, “ _liar_ ”

 

* * *

 

They end up naked, on the floor, with Stiles leaning over Derek, front to back, pressing his wrists together over his head and pinning him in place. He works one leg between Derek’s thighs, nudging them apart to feast his eyes on the delicious sight.

 

He’d chosen the plug on a whim; it had made him laugh out loud. It’s pink and heart shaped at the end and he had known Derek would feel extra embarrassed, clenching his hole around something so undeniably ridiculous on a day as undeniably ridiculous as Valentines.

 

Now he wishes he’d saved it. He wishes Derek had been chained up in their bedroom, where no one else can see him. He hates that Derek’s blushing face, the embarrassed little wiggle he does when he feels the plug too keenly, even the extra stiff way he holds himself when he gets too aroused; all got seen by _other people_.

 

“You’ll never look like this at work again” he says breathily, twisting and rotating the plug, watching Derek’s spine arch.

 

“You’ll never show anyone else that face but me…only me,” he pulls the plug out suddenly and Derek’s gasp is sharp, sending a bolt of desire singing through Stiles’ whole body.

 

“This is _mine_ ” he breathes harshly, circling the puffy reddened entrance with a lube-slick finger. Derek outright groans, arches his hips into the touch. Stiles feels like he must be smiling, but it would be a terrifying look; his own aroused face isn’t something anyone but Derek can see.

Because only Derek can make him like this. Crazy.

 

“Did you want Danny from IT to do this to you?” Stiles almost coos, slipping a finger inside. Derek shakes his head violently, Stiles slips in another finger.

 

“Did you want him to spread your legs? Fuck you with his tongue?”

 

Three fingers, their slick progress in Derek’s passage the punctuation between heavy silence and heavier breaths.

 

“N-Not Danny,” Derek pants.

 

“Only you. Ever.”

 

And that, if anything, takes Stiles’ breath away. Makes him tighten his grip on Derek’s wrist momentarily, makes his jaw clench tight. Makes his dick so hard it hurts.

 

“Good” he says, and strokes lube onto his aching cock, guides it to Derek’s entrance, and sinks in. Inch. By. Inch.

  

* * *

 

 

There’s almost no sign of Mr. Hale now, and this is the part Stiles loves best about fucking Derek in the office. The prim white shirt is ruined, torn apart and cast aside like rags, the suit pants are rumpled and tossed away, the perfectly regulation hair is mussed and wild. As stiff and businesslike as Derek is during the day, he’s wanton and lewd at Stiles’ fingertips.

 

His legs are spread wide and he moans at every forceful thrust of Stiles’ hips, at every achingly delicious slide of Stiles’ dick in his hole. As hard as Stiles fucks him, pounds into his tight little entrance with all the pent-up frustrations of the day, Derek pushes back just as hard, grinding his ass against Stiles’ hips in heady arousal.

 

Stiles grips his hips firmly, biting his lip at the hot, tight grip of Derek’s hole, against his cock,

 

“You’re so tight for me” he groans.

 

“For you” Derek answers breathlessly, mischievously, knowing what it does to Stiles, who clenches his eyes shut tight, feeling those words spike his arousal, make his hips slam harder and faster. He hits Derek’s prostate and has the other man keening low and long when he hits it again and again, brutally grinding his cock against it, eager to feel Derek clench hard around him as he releases.

 

He doesn’t wait long and soon Derek’s hips stutter, grind back hard three more times, and then he’s coming with a cry, all over the carpeted floor.

 

The waves of Derek’s release crash around Stiles, his walls squeezing Stiles dick, chasing the orgasm out of him. Stiles slams into Derek hard and fast, then stills, spilling his seed deep inside his sated lover before collapsing, exhausted.

 

“Happy Valentines Day Stiles” Derek murmurs, the lethargy following climax making his words slur. Stiles smirks and plants a chaste kiss on his lover’s forehead,

 

“Yeah…Happy Valentines.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Gracious but what a sordid affair!


End file.
